lumière et action
by adventurtle
Summary: [annabeth/luke, luke!centric, dystopian au, for the shipping wars] Unfortunately, Luke likes the sun probably a bit more than he should. Fortunately, Annabeth happens.


_lumière et action_

* * *

**Quick note: this is a mortal!au, so the helmet key ring, while it is a reference to Hermes, doesn't mean this Luke has any kind of parental relation with him or any other god. Also, the age gap in this fic between Luke and Annabeth is significantly smaller than in the actual books, because this is an AU therefore I can do whatever I want to.**

oOo

Luke likes the sun.

Luke likes the sun, possibly a bit too much for his own good.

Because you see, in his world, sun is a synonym for danger. Because when the sun starts to rise, the bells go off, and everyone hides between the four thick walls of their home and locks their doors and closes their shutters and lays down in bed and sleeps, and nobody turns back because if they do, they die.

Something comes out when the sun comes up. Something that's afraid of the dark, but feeds off the powerful, luminescent rays of sunshine until the moon takes its place and it retreats, running off to hide God knows where and letting humans replace it.

What that something is, Luke doesn't know. The Supremes, the heads of this world, the all-knowing, all-seeing entities that everyone respects but nobody likes, won't tell. They keep the nature of the _thing _a secret to the population, perhaps to scare them, perhaps to keep them from being even more terrified of it.

And so, during the day, everyone sleeps. And then when evening comes and the sun disappears along with the threat, they get up and live their lives. They work throughout the night, relying on electricity and the soft light of the moon to thrive, and go about their business as usual.

Luke's grandfather was alive back when humans slept through the night. He was only a child back then, but in the morning when all the shutters are shut, he turns out the lights, pulls out a few candles and his old cigar, and tells stories. He tells stories of how it was, to be able to see clearly when he went out, how the clear light of the sun warmed his face and his body as he laid himself down in the grass, in his garden, for hours on end, and how his mother used to yell at him when he came back inside with skin burned red from the rays of it.

And as his grandfather tells his stories and the room fills with bitter tasting, hazy smoke from the cigar in his hand, Luke lets his gaze wander to the cracks in the shutters, the small gaps where the panels of thick, heavy wood don't fit together quite right, where the light seeps in oh so slightly and casts patterns on the old wooden floorboards. Small shadows dance across those patterns occasionally, and instead of seeing monsters and being scared like everyone else would be (and like Luke should be), he sees fairies skipping around in the soft light and it makes him feel happy inside. Content.

Luke's grandfather is the only person in the family who still takes vitamin D pills in the morning with his orange juice. Luke's mother thinks it's ridiculous of him. No one else in the family takes them. Luke just thinks his grandfather misses the sun. He's just trying to cope, he supposes.

Luke wants to take those pills, too. He wants to feel closer to the sun, even if he can't live in its light.

Luke's mother says no.

Another thing that Luke has noticed about his grandfather is that he's the only person in the family that's not sickly pale. His skin isn't _dark_, nowhere near, but Luke can see the remnants of a childhood of running wild in sunlit fields in the colour of it. He looks healthy. Luke wants that too.

There are places where tanned skin can be acquired, completely naturally. Rich people and celebrities go there quite often, but the common folk rarely do, mostly due to lack of funds and an innate fear of light. Luke's not afraid of those places, though. They're safe. They're just large gardens with thick, thick glass walls and ceiling. Luke doesn't want a tan, though. Luke just wants to see the sun, really.

His mother says no.

Luke's fourteen and he shouldn't be thinking of fairies and wanting to take vitamin pills and sometimes when he voices his thoughts in front of other people he can see in their eyes that they think his parents haven't raised him right, but his parents have always tried to convince him that sunlight is evil and that wanting it is wrong. Luke just wants to get away and see the sun, no matter what his parents and other people say.

In the end, he does the inevitable thing. He runs away.

The only person he warns is his grandfather. The old man helps him pack a few supplies, tells him that whatever's out there definitely isn't as scary as everyone makes it out to be, that he can feel it in his bones, then he wishes him good luck, hugs him one last time and ushers him out of the door at midday, when everyone else is asleep.

Just as he's about to cross the threshold, his grandfather takes Luke's hand in his own and places something in it, closing Luke's fingers over it gently.

"Don't look at it until you're out of town," he says. "And take good care of it. It was my father's, and now it's yours. Keep it safe, my boy, and it'll keep you safe. Now go! Walk fast and don't stop until sundown. I'm sure you'll find somewhere to rest, then. And don't worry about where you're going. Let fate guide you, and I'm sure you'll be fine. Now goodbye, and most of all, good luck!"

And then he hugs Luke tightly and gives him one last smile as he walks out of the door.

Luke lifts his head, looking up at the sky. It's a clear, light blue, and Luke can't help but think that it looks a lot like his grandfather's eyes. He lets the sun warm him, spreading heat down to the bone, and with that heat comes light and with that comes _hope_.

Luke begins to walk. He doesn't turn back.

oOo

It's odd, he thinks, to see the town in the daylight. It looks deserted, empty. Almost like a ghost town. A gust of warm wind blows a stray piece of crumpled up paper across the cracked tarmac of the road. Something moves in the shadows of a building to Luke's right, but he's not afraid.

The elation from finally being free spreads through his body, and Luke doesn't believe anything evil could live in the sunshine. It's too beautiful for cruel things.

oOo

Luke's starting to tire. He's been walking for hours, his watch tells him, and his legs are starting to ache. He lets his mind drift to something he's once read in one of his grandfather's old, dusty books when he was a child.

_'La lumière est l'espoir qui nous pousse à avancer.'_

_The French word for light is 'lumière'_, his grandfather had told him when he'd asked what the sentence meant.

That was all his grandfather had translated for him. _"You'll understand the rest for yourself soon enough," _he had said.

And now, Luke begins to understand.

_'Light is the hope that pushes us forwards.'_

He continues to walk.

oOo

He's left the town, now. He's stumbling along the road, the concrete hard and unforgiving every time he falls and scrapes his hands and knees. He can feel the heat of it through the thin soles of his shoes. He can feel the heat everywhere, and he can even _see _it in the air in front of him, a discreet haze hanging over the dry ground. It's suffocating, and it's everywhere and there's no escape and he just can't breathe, and then he remembers his grandfather's gift.

It's still in his hand, the cool metal of it digging into his palm. Slowly, he uncurls his fingers.

It's a key ring. Luke kind of wants to laugh. His grandfather had told him it would keep him safe! A key ring, protecting him? Yeah, right.

It's shaped liked a helmet. A winged helmet, actually. The metal is dark, heavy and cold in his hand. He shrugs and pockets it. And then he walks on.

Except he doesn't. Actually, he just trips over something and end up swinging upside-down, suspended by his feet from a tree branch above him. He quietly curses at himself for not seeing the tripwire before walking into it. But really, who would set up this kind of trap around these parts? It's obviously designed to catch humans, and Luke briefly wonders if it's designed to catch _him_.

And then he stops wondering anything because there's a face in front of his. He can't quite see any details, being currently hanging upside-down, but the face appears to be female, with piercing grey eyes, and a cascade of blonde curls framing it.

The young woman crouches down at the base of the tree trunk, messes with something hidden in the grass down there for a second, and before Luke can even realize what she's doing, he's falling.

He hits the ground with an 'oomph'. Pain shoots through every limb, but nothing seems to be broken. Slowly, he pushes himself off of the ground, holding in a pained groan, and stands face to face with the blonde.

Now that he can actually see her face properly, he realizes that she's younger than he originally thought, maybe a year or two younger than himself. She's quite pretty, in a dangerous way. Her eyes make him feel like she's already coming up with several different ways to dispose of him. The dagger strapped to her thigh doesn't reassure him any further, and the smirk floating around on her lips has him swallowing loudly and taking a step back.

She takes a step forwards. He takes another step back. And then she opens her mouth.

"I'm Annabeth."

"Luke," he returns. There's a question hanging in the air between them, and eventually Luke asks it.

"Are you what they're so afraid of?"

"_I_'m not," she answers. "We are."

And then out of the woods behind her, wispy shadows begin to shape silhouettes, walking out of the heat haze solemnly. These people look kind of like Annabeth; lean, carrying themselves with a kind of quiet confidence. There are girls and boys, women and men of all ages, all dressed similarly in simple clothes in earthy colours, green occasionally finding a place between the beiges and browns. Both the tops and bottoms are skin tight, covering as much skin as possible, but Luke assumes they're also quite thin and elastic, allowing free movement and protecting without suffocating. Some of the older men, though, wear a sort of makeshift leather armour. Beads of sweat pearl on these men's foreheads.

All of them carry weapons of some sort, even the youngest - a boy who looks to be around 7 years old. Some have daggers, some swords, some even a bow and arrows, but none have a gun of any kind.

While their bodies, their clothes and their way of holding themselves are all similar, their looks are not. Annabeth's blonde hair and grey eyes seem to be a common feature, but there is also a boy, who looks around Annabeth's age, with black hair and sea-green eyes, a girl, who must be approximately the same age as Luke, with hair just as dark and electric blue eyes. The youngest boy also has black hair, with dark eyes that look like they've seen so much more than any 7 year old should ever see.

"What are you?" Luke asks, voice barely more than a whisper.

It's the oldest man in the group that answers his question.

"We're different."

oOo

It feels quite odd to Luke, falling asleep as the sun goes down, rather than watching it come up before closing his eyes and succumbing to fatigue. He can see the sunset through the thin canvas walls, as the tents Annabeth's people live in are light and easy to fold, given that they usually spend most of the summer travelling.

He's just spent the last two hours with Annabeth, eating a simple meal of soup and bread as she sat across from him and told him the tale of her people.

_"The brave folk, they call us. It's either that or the cursed ones. It all depends on how you see it, really," _she had said.

_"Back when humans lived under the sun - the Golden Age, we call it - we were considered enemies of the Supremes, enemies of the law. We were poor, we were lost, and we stole to survive. One by one, we were caught. And then, because the Supremes, they feed off fear and chaos, we were let go. And then, to spite us and to scare them, they told the common folk that we were monsters, beasts, and that no one should ever go out in the sun, ever again. They believed them, and so it began._

_"We've lived like this for ages, now. I suppose you realize I wasn't born when it all started. Chiron's the last one remaining of the first of us. He says it was difficult, but miraculously, we survived. During the summer, we travelled; and during the winter, we hid in caves under the mountains, fighting off the cold. There were women, there were men, and so eventually, there were children, too. Occasionally, we would find a traveller, a lost soul, like you, and let them stay, let them become one of us. That's what happened to Percy, Nico and Thalia. They're cousins. We don't know how their parents died, but we found them half dead in the forest and took them in. Now they're part of us, just like me._

_"I was born here. My mother and father left and returned to the towns, feeling like this life didn't suit them, but I stayed. I like it here."_

After that, she had left. She'd kissed him before leaving, though. It left Luke dumbstruck for a few seconds, his cheeks pink and the taste of lemons and mint lingering on his tongue.

And then he'd settled down in the makeshift bed that had been set up for him and tried to sleep, as darkness slowly washed over the camp.

Truthfully, Luke likes it here too.

He likes Chiron, who reminds him - almost painfully - of his own grandfather. He likes Annabeth almost as much as he likes the sun. He likes Thalia and Nico and Percy, and how they remind him of the little siblings he never had. He likes Hestia, who is the mother that his should have been.

He likes this life. He likes the freedom of it, the warmth and the light and the hope. He likes the sun.

In his hand, he still holds the key ring his grandfather gave him before he left. It's still heavy in his palm, but it feels warmer than it did. It feels like hope.

Finally, Luke understands.

And finally, he falls asleep with people that understand him, looking forward to the next day and the freedom and the light it will bring.

He falls asleep as the sun goes down.

oOo

_**fin.**_


End file.
